


Sunset Sheet Stains

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Creampie, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Other, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After spending too much time apart for comfort, Aziraphale and Crowley treat themselves to an evening in bed together (rope included).
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33
Collections: Soft Smut Sunday





	Sunset Sheet Stains

It’s only in moments like this that Crowley can really give the time to appreciate little details such as how soft the pillows are in the cottage. He recalled the fuss Aziraphale made over their importance when they were picking everything out for their new home together. But who cared if they found the perfect pillows or not? Pillows were pillows, right? And no matter which ones they put on their bed, they’d have a place to lay their head, and they didn’t need a pillow for much more than that, did they?

As the glow of a dying sun pours in through the blinds and falls against his skin, the demon now understands that he could not have been more wrong. Every carefully-selected piece of their bed cradles his body in a way that feels more soothing than the clouds in Heaven. There is no better surface he can imagine he’d rather have his face pressed into right now, each thrust rocking his head into the pillow while he watches the sky shift from blue to yellow to oranges and pinks. He will have to voice his appreciation to Aziraphale for his insistence on such matters in some shape or form.

Not now, though. It will have to wait until later. His hips rut from time to time to help encourage the silk sheets underneath him to pet his cock, stiff with want. Crowley is _spoiled_ and he knows it, but he often feigns ignorance because he knows it will get his angel to cave if he goes about it the right way. But he can’t always be so lucky; Aziraphale quickly took a liking to silk rope and found it to be quite the sight holding Crowley’s arms behind and against his back in a corset-like pattern. To be honest, it wasn’t exactly much of a punishment when he got such enjoyment out of being bound, though it _did_ accomplish one thing: ensuring that he couldn’t get too greedy by allowing his hands to wander down between his own legs before he’d earned it.

His eyes cast a gentle glance over his shoulder when he felt his lover slow to a stop, hips pressed in all the way against him. The creaks of the bed dropped out of the air and left the room quiet aside from soft panting from both of them. Crowley thought about asking if anything was the matter but became too lost in observing Aziraphale’s movements, sensing from his body language and the tone in the room that all was well, never better.

One of his hands comes up off the demon’s hips to sink into the mattress beside him, letting him lean over Crowley without laying his full weight on top of him. Crowley had been growing his hair out since the end of the world had been postponed, and by now those red waves were nearing his shoulders. His angel swept them back off his face and neck where they could lay on the pillow, moving them out of the way so he had room to press a trail of kisses going from his cheekbone, to his jaw, to his neck, and then to his shoulders. As they became more tender and open-mouthed, the principality found his hips beginning to roll into rhythm once more.

Aziraphale always got like this when they spent too much time apart without enough affection between. Once they burned their respective bridges to Heaven and Hell, nothing kept them from pursuing the things that made them happiest in life. Among being well-fed and dancing into the night within the walls of their cottage came learning how love was really meant to be. Each of them had to take their own personal steps towards not only openly loving one another, but also to loving themselves and coming to terms with the fact that they _deserved_ to live good lives.

It was a process that still wasn’t complete, but during that process, Aziraphale had learned that he both wanted affection and was allowed it. How freeing it was to learn to express himself, and how warm his heart and soul became each day that he spent being and getting to know himself. Crowley had never seen him so bright. He was honestly honored to be able to walk those paths with him, to be able to learn to smile and relax with him, to live independent of unjust rulers instructing them how to carry out their years.

Aziraphale was spoiled, too, in his own way. It was hard not to let him have what he wanted when he wanted it, especially when his requests typically consisted of smooching the drowsiness off of Crowley’s face in the early hours of the morning or swinging their arms connected at the hands while strolling through the streets. Usually they got to spend a fair amount of time together… Usually. From time to time, errands or events would keep them apart. It was never more than a day, maybe two, and typically was only a few short hours, but it didn’t feel short to Aziraphale. Even though his perception of time allowed decades to feel like weeks or months, a couple hours without Crowley was almost too bleak to bear now that he’d grown so used to being at his side.

Hence how the two of them came to be in their current circumstances, with Crowley crooning delighted moans and whimpers for the down beneath his face. While they hadn’t been apart for the entirety of the past couple of days, they hadn’t gotten to see each other much since earlier in the week and it was starting to wear on the pair when they _finally_ got some free time with one another. The way Zira shuddered against him would linger in the demon’s daydreams for weeks after this, and he knew it was because it had to feel so much better after a little time away from one another. Though he had a feeling that if he insinuated doing such a thing on purpose, Aziraphale would whine and fuss about it until Crowley reassured him that they didn’t have to. For a moment, he considered saying something about it just for the reaction, but then he felt his angel’s hand slide under his belly to wrap his fingers around his prick. After that, he wasn’t thinking about much of anything anymore.

“...‘Ziraphale…” He murmured, the tone of his voice soft and feathery, his lashes fluttering as more and more of the daytime faded from the room. As if Aziraphale had him on strings, Crowley’s back arched the moment he shifted his angle and started driving his thrusts in with more speed and intent.

 _“Aziraphale,”_ he gasped, arms instinctively tugging at their binds to grab for the sheets, but unable to move from their position pinned against his back. He was at his partner’s mercy, and luckily for him, Aziraphale had plenty of it to spare. Crowley could feel the metal of his rings brushing against him while he was stroked, faster now than before, and something about knowing he hadn’t taken his jewelry off for this made him shiver. It could hardly be considered fair, the way his angel could unravel him without a second thought, but Crowley never liked following the rules much, anyhow.

He knows that when Aziraphale’s hips start to get jerky and his movements become tense that he’s close, which is something Crowley isn’t complaining about considering his stomach is all coiled and tangled with a building heat that threatens to spill the longer they go on. These would not be their first orgasms; they had caught each other by the mouth at one and were undressed by two that afternoon, and now that the sun was dying a bit after six, Crowley couldn’t be too certain of just how many times the two of them had pushed each other towards and over the edge.

It was almost funny how they were so soft-spoken now when a couple hours ago the two of them had been quite the talkative pair. The _‘please, please, I want it’_ s and _‘beg if you intend to finish’_ s that had once bounced off the walls, over time, fell into little more than hushed keens. Even their orgasms now were gentler. Aziraphale hit his final peak with a shudder that slowly worked down his entire body, forcing him to bow down in and press his nose between Crowley’s shoulder blades. He breathed barely-audible moans into his lover, temporarily tattooing ecstasy into the skin as his hips bucked a few more times before tensing and trembling in place.

Anthony wasn’t quite there yet, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before he whimpered through another climax. Especially not with the way Zira, hips still and flush against his ass, continued to fumble and stroke him off. Crowley’s arms strained against the rope once more and tested its strength by pulling the fibers taut and proving that the knots were enough to hold him. At some point, Aziraphale pulled out of him and he didn’t even notice because his brain was a pool of jelly currently occupied with the sensation of his angel focusing his pumps on the upper half of his length and the head.

Numbing, that was a good way to describe it. He felt numb and warm and all-consumed by the sensation of chasing the finish line, soaked to the bone in need. Just one more. Just _one more_ and he could be good, he could behave, he could lay down and cuddle. His thoughts continued to unravel further and further until all he could really process was _more, more, more, almost_. His hands may be restrained, but there was no keeping his hips from rocking into the hand that was taking care of him, as well as no keeping his body from writhing or his teeth from sinking into his bottom lip.

Spoiled as ever, he didn’t even have to ask for permission this time. Aziraphale brought him right to his climax and let him eat his cake, too. He was noiseless at first. His lips parted but let no sound escape while his legs kicked a bit, followed by his toes curling and his lungs ringing moans past his throat and against his partner’s ears. There was no keeping him still while he gifted their sheets with a temporary stain, not when Aziraphale had learned just the right way to make his thoughts pour out of his ears.

When he came to, euphoria replaced with a softer and more manageable afterglow, he noticed that the room had fallen darker still since he last paid attention to that detail. While he gasped and tried to collect his breath, caring hands began to gently undo the binds holding Crowley captive. He was totally slack to the bed at this point, which was one sign among many that this would be enough for the night. Aziraphale’s lack of touch had been sated and now all he wanted was to take care of his lover so the two of them could begin bathing in the excess of attention they could give each other until they fell asleep.

Crowley already knew the first thing he wanted to do when his arms were freed, and it involved turning over onto his back and pulling his angel down against him. Snaking his hands behind his neck so they could meet and hold one another between Aziraphale’s shoulders, a little smile on his face. Anthony knew that when he tucked himself into his lover’s neck and cooed sweet somethings that he was distracting him from the miracle he was performing to clean up their messes, but he didn’t care. Zira would manage; he always found a way. And when he was done, Crowley knew that he’d return every kiss that he was given to Crowley’s face, his neck, his collar. And he would cherish every single one until sleep took him swiftly to morning.


End file.
